It’s 2 am. Knock on the door. “Dean, you’re up.”
I’m confused, cold and disoriented. I have no idea where I am. The only thing I want to do is go back to sleep. My eyes slowly wake. But there’s no time for rest.
I say to myself, “3, 2, 1… get up.” I plant my feet quietly on the ground, jump out of the creaky bunk bed, and put on my gear. I shuffle to the control room, grab the kettle and make a cup of the muddiest, grainy-looking Nestlé café coffee. It tastes like piss water, as my dad would say. But in a comforting way, it tastes like home.
My colleague hands over the radio. I’m now in charge.
Everything feels calm. The bunkhouse was quiet but alert. Tense stillness. Rain is pounding against the walls and wind howling through the trees. I know the odds of a call-out are very slim, but still, there’s a chance.
All of a sudden, the radio crackles to life. “Control, this is Forward Command...”.
A calm but urgent voice speaks:
“We have a Grade 1 casualty, male, mid-30s, reported fall from height on the east side of the ridge line, grid reference Sierra Tango 924 661. The casualty is unconscious and may have spinal involvement. The weather is closing in from the west, and visibility is deteriorating. The heli has an estimated time of arrival of 12 minutes, but it could potentially abort if the fog intensifies. Ground team Bravo is 15 minutes out on foot. We need you to coordinate Bravo and prepare an LZ. Confirm you have the grid and can lead.”
And that’s when I froze. Everything started to feel foggy.
It’s my moment, but I’m scrambling. I can’t hear anything. I have no idea what they’re talking about. I thought I’d have my shit together, but I was terrified. I glance down at the map, trying to fix on the grid reference, but I’ve already forgotten the number. I scan for the location, my mind racing. I don’t want to ask for it again. Everyone’s watching. I’m meant to be leading.
The rescue team was waiting on me, waiting for my lead, trusting me to guide them to find the missing person. But every question from the team felt like a test I hadn’t revised for.
As the team headed out, I looked up and saw them glance back at me. Not with defiance. Not with disinterest. But with uncertainty.
Unsurprisingly, the mission failed. We were unable to locate the missing person.
But luckily for them and their family, it wasn’t real. It was a 3-day immersive leadership training course conducted in collaboration with the Devon & Air Rescue Service and the UK Special Forces, in Dartmoor, UK.
Yes, it was staged. But my gosh, it felt real – it didn’t feel like an act. It didn’t feel like a role-play. It felt like someone’s life was in the balance. That’s why immersive learning works. Because it tricks your nervous system into believing it’s real - so I’d highly recommend.
This experience feels a lifetime ago, but luckily for me, we debriefed on what happened in this scenario, and here’s what I learnt.
So what did I learn about leadership?
Take charge. Often in high-stakes crisis situations, people think that taking charge means assessing the situation, creating a plan, and executing it. But the first step before anything is to take charge of yourself. You cannot lead others if you do not lead yourself first. Step back, breathe, and choose how you want to show up. I did not take charge of myself. I was hiding under the mask of inferiority. Leaders cast a long shadow. When you're calm and composed, others will be too.
Leadership is not about having all the answers, but it’s about developing a shared understanding. This is split into two. 1) Your job as a leader is not to tell people how to do their job, but to surface clarity of intent (in other words, paint a clear image of success). 2) Establish role clarity. Your job is to ensure everyone clearly understands their role. Simply put, does everyone understand the mission and their role within it?
Dissent. Even in a crisis situation, with limited time, creating a space for dialogue, not one-way instruction, is critical. As the leader, you’re not often the expert. The experts are the people you employed. Allow space for challenge and dissent.
Pre-mortem. What could go wrong? And how do we plan for it? This reminds me of school trips. You’re in a group and your task is to build a bridge. What does everyone do? Dive in, start building. No plan, no roles, no scenario planning. Pre-mortem is actively imagining failure, or things that could get in the way, and then you plan for it. Highlight the risks, and discuss what you’re willing to accept. Then commit. Act decisively, despite the uncertainty. But critically, always ensure people have the flexibility to adapt to the situation as new opportunities/threats emerge.
Quite frankly, this was one of the most insightful (close to the feeling of real) leadership lessons I’ve participated in, and I’m very grateful to the investment (it wasn’t cheap!) from UK Sport in helping us grow as leaders.
The most valuable lessons (MVL)
Why am I sharing this story with you?
I’d been raised to believe that people rise to the occasion. I didn’t. You never do. You fall to the level of your preparation – or, more precisely, to your ability to take charge of yourself under pressure. Leadership, starts not with looking outward, but inward. It’s not about having all the answers. It’s steadying yourself long enough to be present in the moment
.
But secondly, the value of debriefing. People talk about the Most Valuable Player, Most Valuable Product, Most Valuable this and that etc etc, but how often do we talk about the MVL’s: Most Valuable Lessons. I’d love to know what you think but I see ‘debriefing’ avoided like the plague in the corporate world. Sometimes a lack of know-how, sometimes a ‘lack of time’, sometimes an ignorance of the benefits. It blows my mind how little it’s done. Mistakes will happen all the time. ALL THE TIME. But it’s the learning unpacked from the mistakes that matters. We debriefed it. We unpacked it. It creates growth, even though it’s bloody uncomfortable facing the truth. The truth stings.
Finally, that night, I didn’t ask enough questions. I was too afraid to look uncertain, to look stupid. But clarity comes from inquiry, not pretending to know, and that’s what often leads to disasters or unintended consequences. This is all underpinned by emotional stability, and the courage to be vulnerable. Because really, asking questions is a real sign of showing competence:
It can be simple:
“What do you see that I don’t?”
“Does everyone understand their role?”
“Are we clear on the mission?”
“What options do we have”
Thank you for reading. And I would 100% recommend experiential learning programmes!
About me:
Dean is passionate about helping companies build healthy, high-performance cultures. He taps into over 18 years of truly diverse leadership experience, spending time in the most elite environments to decode what it takes to create sustainable success.
Global Speaker | Founder of Dualitos Consulting | Proud Father of Poppy & Paige
Recent clients: L’Oréal, Baker McKenzie, Air New Zealand, LinkedIn, British Government, Specsavers, Balfour Beatty, Royal Canin.
When you’re ready, here are three ways I can help:
Consultancy: We deliver bespoke ‘performance sprints’ focused on creating healthy, high-performing team cultures. Culture breaks down under Scale, Pressure, and Hiring, and it’s a silent tax on performance. So we help build ‘Performance Operating Systems’ to shift behaviour and results.
Keynotes talks, example topics such as:
How Great Teams Disagree: How Productive Disagreement is the Bridge to Sustainable Success
Leading through Change: How the Neglected Role of Human Emotion is Preventing Real Change
High-Performance Culture Decoded: A look inside the World’s Greatest cultures to decode the principles of success.
Leadership Workshops: I partner with enterprise organisations to deliver highly bespoke senior executive leadership days.